Bloodbath
by TheEvilMuffinToaster
Summary: France knew from the moment he groped Russia during Christmas that it would come back to haunt him... M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Bloodbath  
**By TheEvilMuffinToaster

**Chapter One**

"Da. That is why I propose we start a relationship."

France could only stare.

"Can't you hear me, France? I propose that we start a relationship. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

France wondered where he went wrong in life.

He lived fancy, got to annoy everyone he wanted too, groped people as he pleased and had bedded more women then all the other countries combined. He was neighbors to the stuck-up L'Angleterre and had the pleasure of annoying the hell out of the Englishman. Where had he gone wrong? He recycled, he picked up his trash, he participated in Earth day every year (though several countries have banned Earth Day because of him, saying that running around naked was doing nothing to preserve the Earth) and he also organized yearly fundraisers!

So why in hell was Ivan Braginsky sitting in his living room, claiming that he wanted to start a relationship with the Frenchman?

Did that girl last night slip him a roofie and now he was hallucinating…

No. That was practically impossible. He had long ago become impervious to the affects of date rape drugs.

Just an hour ago, he had been sleeping the morning away; tucked safely into his king-sized bed. The satin sheets were ruffled while he tossed and turned in his dreams; mumbling incoherent French phrases into his fluffy pillows that littered his bed. Then the doorbell had rung and woke him from his slumber. His sleep-fogged brain wondered if the girl from last night had forgotten something or was coming back for a sixth round. Settling himself into his silk bathrobe, he dragged himself downstairs and to the front door. When he opened it, he definitely did not expect Russia to be standing there.

Definitely not.

_No way in hell_.

"_Oui_, I heard you…" France mumbled. What was this? He did not mumble! Especially in front of _Russia_… Alright, he might be afraid of Russia (only a tiny bit) and usually skirted around Russia's existence the best he could, so why was he mumbling! He was France! The country of love and wine, so why was he was mumbling now?

"So, da, what do you say?" Russia asked; smiling that creepy smile of his. Oh Mon _dieu_, why did Russia have to smile so creepily?

"Normally since I am the country where Love is found, I would never back down from a challenge such as this!" France said haughtily. "But if I may ask Monsieur _Russie_, what brought this er, desire on?" Nope, he did not just hesitate. He was France. He so did not hesitate.

Russia looked thoughtful for a minute before speaking again. "Ah! Don't you remember da? Comrade-France remembers the Bloodbath during Christmas back in 2007, da? You made a move on me, remember da?"

France froze.

Oh shit.

Oh shit shit shit shit shit. _Shit_.

He knew that could come back to haunt him one day.

He _knew _it.

France had been dared to grope Russia by someone who will remain anonymous. He had been asked to rape-slash-undress-slash-blackmail-grope several nations that day. His victims were Lithuania, England, America, Finland, Prussia, Greece, Turkey, Switzerland, Hungary, Austria, Germany, the Italies, Japan, Spain, and… Russia. Russia had been fine with it and said 'I'm not bothered…but I've never felt that way…?' The way the Slavic country said it just made France knew deep down that that incident would in fact come back to haunt him.

Like a foreboding shadow that cloaked his person day and night, he knew deep down in his heart that him groping Russia would come back to haunt him. Russia was a person not to be messed with; the Cold War and World War II proved that both. Russia struck fear in the hearts of countries everywhere and was feared among small children. Russia was well, _Russian_. Russians were known to be violent and practically bloodthirsty.

Mon dieu, why did god hate him _so, so _much?

"In all truth…" Russia mumbled, his cheeks tinged with pink. "I didn't expect to ever tell you this, but da, when you touched me…I enjoyed it very much."

If France wasn't France, he would have broken down right there. Did Russia just tell him that he liked being groped by him? Well damn, there was a first for everything…

"…What?"

"Well da, there aren't many people who like me and when you touched me I felt very happy inside!"

_So my lovemaking skills can even reach the coldest of nations…_

If this wasn't so serious, he would have called Prussia up right there and then and bragged that his lovemaking skills were amazing.

"So what took you so long to get back to _moi_?

"Well da, that's my problem… I didn't know how to go about it, da? And my boss is being a bit of a jerk lately, so I haven't had the time, but da! I do now!"

There was no way in hell that Francis would ever admit to being afraid of Russia; no way in hell.

"Teehee…"Russia appeared right next to France then. "Does France want to become one with Russia da?"

France did what he did best next.

He ran for it.

* * *

"No you bloody frog! You aren't coming inside!"

"But _L'Angleterre_ I'll be raped by that brute Russia!"

England stopped trying to slam the door in the door in his face for a minute; outright confusion flat on his face.  
"What the hell did you do to piss him off?"

"Well L'Angleterre, do you remember the bloodbath of '07?"

"The one where you stripped all the nations and pratically _raped _everyone?"

"It was not rape L'Angleterre! I was showing them my love! But yes, that was it. And do you remember that before I got shot in the head by Switzerland ("Pity you lived…") that I groped Russia?"

England blinked. His brain seemed to go into overdrive at the Frenchman's room. And automatically a dusty light bulb went off in the Briton's brain and he discovered what France has gotten himself into this time around.

And with that, he attempted to slam the door as fast as he could.

"Go away from you bloody frog! You got yourself into this mess! Don't drag me into it!"

England pushed his chest away and France fell backwards; the door slamming heavily in his face as he attempted to regain his balance.

God_damnit_.

France sighed. There was only way to deal with this.

And that was to ignore Russia all he could until the end of very existence. And that France had a feeling that that would be better said then done…

* * *

Exactly.

God, I don't even know what possessed me to write this. I'm in a writing slump lately and I think it's because of the weather. I've just lost interest in writing…

Any who, for those hardcore Hetalia fan, I assume you've all seen the Christmas bloodbath where France was running around naked? And when France groped Russia, we all know they both secretly liked it. And that's what inspired this.


	2. Chapter 2

Bloodbath

By the EvilMuffinToaster

**Chapter Two**

Through out the entire meeting, France could feel the burning violet eyes of Russia resting on his form. The mysterious, dark mauve eyes roaming up and down his suave body; undressing him with those mysterious eyes burning with madness. It was creepy alright and it made him feel awkward in many, many places. He silently wondered if this is how other people felt when he groped them.

No, no, that couldn't be possible. He was France – he brought the feeling of love and pleasure; not the feeling of creepiness and 'oh my god, I'm being eye-raped'. It was just his imagination at work. He had heard that when you were paranoid, your mind turned out of whack and your imagination created things that fueled your never-ending paranoia.

Yeah, that sounded logical. Just his imagination…

…Alright, he had to stop blaming things on his imagination. He hung out (annoyed more like) with England too much if he was blaming things on such things at that. Sure, he hadn't imagined Russia breaking into his _house _and deciding that they'd 'become one'. And noticing by the fact that he was not tied to a bed or black and blue all over, France had obviously declined the offer. He didn't want to become one during the Cold War and still didn't want to become one now.

"France-nii-chan?"

He shook his head and looked at the adorable little Northern Italy (it was such a _shame_ that the South Italian, Lovino, hated him so, so much while this one loved him and practically _praised_ his very being…) who was poking his arm with a worried expression on his _adorable, adorable_ face.

"Ve~ France-nii-chan looks troubled. Does France-nii-chan want a_ huuuuug_?"

France's grin turned lecherous but the Northern Italian was completely oblivious to it. France's inner Francis began skipping around inside him; seeing an opening to ultimately make himself –and possibly Feliciano as well–feel better.

"Oh. Oui, oui. But how about we go farther than a hu–" _THUMP._ A thick, four hundred page book made rather unfriendly contact with the side of France's head.

"Now that you're done being a giant pervert," England said irritably; reaching across the table to grab his book back, "I'd actually like to get something accomplished at this meeting for once. But knowing the lack of brain-cells you possess, that will never happen."

America (who was sitting right next to England) laughed obnoxiously and slapped England on the back; not taking notice of the sudden crack in England's back. "Oh, lay off it Iggy!" Ever since that damn Japan had called England that in World War II, America would not stop using it on the poor Briton. "Italy and France are just having some manly man brother-to-brother man love time!"

"…That made no sense whatsoever you bloody git! You hang out with Japan too much!"

"Sure, it made sense! Your stupid English ignorance just can't understand my awesome American ignorance. And the by the way, Japan is _soooooo _much cooler than you."

"Why you– You know what? Never mind. I'm going to fiercely ignore you with my stupid English ignorance then. Good luck getting a ride back to the airport, twat-face."

"_Whaaat?_ Don't be that way Iggy! _Nooooo!_"

America reached over the edge of his seat and wrapped his arms around England's waist. "Come on man! We _are _supposed to be setting an example for everyone else! Don't be a prick and let me carpool with yooooou!"

England stuttered; his face blushing red in both embarrassment and anger. He swelled up and grunted. "What is _with _you? Goddamnit! Gerroff! How you manage to tie your own shoes is a mystery in itself!"

"Haha! That's why I switched to Velcro!"

"That still doesn't solve the bloody problem! _Get. Off!"_

"_Never!_ I shall prevail cuz' I'm the hero!"

Russia hummed words underneath his breath; suspiciously trying to sound cute, but just coming off creepy. The large, Artic country was watching the ensuing fight (England currently had America pinned to the floor and was straddling the idiotic world power while Japan and Hungary were snapping pictures furiously) and was titling his head back and forth.

"_Polyushko-polye…Polyushko shiroko polye…" _**Field, my field, my wide field. **_"Yedut da po polyu gyeroi," _**The heroes ride over the field, "**_Proshlogo vryemyeni gyeroi_," **The heroes of the Red Army. **The song was an old, patriotic Soviet Song. He had forgotten some of lyrics as time had passed and all Soviet memories slowly faded, but somewhere in someplace inside him, he still could easily remember the entire song.

Unfortunately, the nation sitting next to the gigantic nation was the small little Baltic, Latvia. Latvia, of course, always had to have the luck of being seated next to Russia and it did not help the fact that he still had a deep-rooted fear of the Slavic nation. He began shaking when he heard Russia singing some song that scared him. Well, many things scared him, but that was well beside the point. Anyway, he easily got tired of being bullied around by the large nation! Someday he would stand up for himself, goddamnit!

"Latvia," Russia giggled. "Are you cold?"

Here it comes! The day he makes all Latvians proud! "N-N...Y-Y-Yeah, M-Mr. R-Russia. Just c-cold. That's all…."  
..._Damnit._

Sitting across from Russia was Japan (who was finished with taking pictures of America and England) and he did not look pleased with the Artic nation at all. Not that he was ever pleased with the Slavic, but Russia was an asshole.

"Russia-san," Japan coughed. "Please stop being a bully. It is not nice."

"_Eh?_ Who said I was being a bully? Da~ you're being silly Japan. Silly, silly little island nation~"

"_Watashi– _Ahem,I am _not _being silly! Can't you see you are scaring the poor _s-__shōnen_?"

Russia blinked. "I'm scaring Latvia? _Nyet. _Latvia is just very cold right now. Learn your place, da? Don't shout out such stupid things. You spend too much time with _Amerika _as it is. His stupid-ness seems to be rubbing off on you. Such a shame too. Here I began to think that you were quite smart..."

America grunted. "Hey creeper! I am not stupid! I may be dumb, but I am definitely not stupid!"

"Don't go starting the Cold War again you, dumbass!" England yelled. "I swear to God, if you start it again and blow up the damn world with your _weapons of mass destruction_, my foot _will _go so _far_ up your damn ass that freaking' _China _will feel your pain." England shot a knowing glare at China, who merely rolled his eyes and muttered something in his home tongue.

"He started it…"

"I don't _care _who started it. Remember. Foot, ass, China – _sit the hell down now before I go Jack the Ripper on your sorry arse."_

America harrumphed like a child and plopped down in his chair like a child; sending glares towards Russia. It was obvious that America _so _wanted to fill Russia's drink full of antifreeze, or maybe windshield wiper fluid. Or Cyanide. Yeah, Cyanide. Maybe Russia would die that way. Or the Cyanide would burn his throat and cause it to swell up and he could never, ever speak again in that really, really stupid voice and he'd never ever have to hear the word 'Da', 'Nyet', and 'stupid idiot' _ever again._

(And not to mention, Russia would most likely have to be fed through a straw and that ensured no watery fluids that were alcoholic, which undoubtedly meant no vodka. And no vodka meant no drunk Russia prank-calling house at three o'clock in the morning telling him that they'd become one.)

Throughout all of this, France was left to his own devices because no one decided to include him in on the debate, pseudo-fight. Though this was never a good idea because he was France and who knows what he could do when left alone? But right now, he was too preoccupied with the thoughts of why Russia was so…_Russe-like. _It was such a dilemma for the Country of Love to be thinking oh so much. He wasn't meant to think. Well, yeah, he had to think to survive daily, but _really_.

It wasn't like he had a problem with another person wanting him in a sexual manner. Everyone wanted him. He was France. It's as if he couldn't spread the thought enough!

But it was Russia.

Really, France had no idea what to do now. Normally, he was not used to such people wanting him; sure, he knew people who wanted him because he was well, well, _well _aware of the fact that he was inhumanly gorgeous and a sex god. It was just that these people were normal, were not psychotic, and did not like taking advantage of adorable, little alcoholic Baltic countries. Everyone took advantage of everyone, but Russia just took the whole damn bakery.

Sighing, he knew he'd have to go to an expert. Said-expert would have to be someone who used to the way Russia thought, worked and acted...

He grinned. This was not a grin that promised sex, or unkind and unwanted violation. This was the grin of someone who just had the best damn idea in the whole wide world. France finally knew who could help him with his Russia problem!

He knew where they lived too...  
_Yes!_

* * *

An exact twenty-four hours from when the meeting had ended and France had made up his mind about who he was going to go too for help about his Russia-problem, France found himself hesitating outside the said-person's house.

Really, this was probably one of the most pathetic things ever. He was _France _for _Dieu's _sake!

He shouldn't be so…hesitant when it came to this matter! He was Francis Bonnefoy, the personification of a country with a powerful libido! He was the reason that Love and Lust sounded so similar! (Not really, but their English counterparts sounder _so damn _similar.) He had the power to make anyone succumb to their darkest desires! He was _République française! _He was also the country home to some of the most delicious foods in the whole damn world! (Though this is indeed besides the damn point, it helped boost his low ego).

Yeah! He could do this. It was just like a walk in the park…! Except, he'd be breaking into someone's house, ambushing them while they weren't looking and forcing all ways on how to deal with Russia out of him! Anyway, he could do this. He could do this like he could do a woman! _Excellent._

Releasing a breath he didn't know he had been holding, the French nation of Love picked the lock while whistling a jaunty tone, pushed open the front door and made his way through the house.

While doing so, France tried not to see how obscenely messy it was compared to his own home. Even though this house had no dirt covering the floors and no grime on the picture-frames, the state of the home was…not to his liking. Not to his liking at all. His home was much, much, _muuuuch _more nicer. With all his hot little maids dressed in some might call obscene little black-and-white French maid dresses and the cute men with tight clothes that had to bend over to clean up little stains on the floor and he might just cop-a-feel _once _in a while! And not to mention – oh! He was getting ahead of himself. It was time to get back on the matter at hand...

Finally, _finally_, after resisting the urge to pick up everything he saw out of place (and he was _soooooo _not-dreaming and not-fansticizing about his sexy team of maids and butlers back in Paris), he made it to the kitchen doorway, where the smell of greasy bacon and somewhat burnt toast hit his noise.

And making that (disgusting) food was none other than his savior, one happy-looking America.

Who to add icing on the cake of irony was _singing._

"_Movin', movin', movin', though they're disapprovin', keep them dogies movin', rawhide._" America was singing one of his Western songs. Such a silly boy…"_Don't try to understand 'em, just rope an' throw an' brand 'em. Soon we'll be living high and wide." _Rawhide by Frankie Laine wasn't it? "_My heart's calculatin', My true love will be waitin': Waitin' at the end of my ride._"

"_Move 'em out, head 'em_ **ahhhh!–**_France! _Oh my god I did not see you there! And isn't it nice weather we're having and _ahahahahaha _it looks really cloudless and you know what, I was t_otally_ just not singing right now because that is _sooooooooo _unmanly and it was evil homosexual twin Alfonso that was inseminated in the Flordia Wars! And he_ totally, totally, totally_ likes! To sing show tunes and _ummmmm_–"

France sighed; holding up a hand. "Save it for L'Angleterre."

"H'okay. Whatcha need from the hero?"

"I need you to help me get rid of Russia."

* * *

**Watashi: **_(JAP) – _'I'

**Shounen: **_(JAP) – _'Boy'

**Russe: **_(FRE) – _'Russia'

_Why this took long, I have no idea. This started out as a small little story that formed at the back of my head and pushed forward to the front of the mush that is my brain. I didn't have any plans of finishing this, but an unnamable source convinced me to do otherwise _

_(This unnamable source is TheMadSloth. Please, go both– I mean _praise_ her in repent for my sins :D)_

_Any who, I feel like I can't get France right. Like, he's not, _Francey _enough for me. Russia's fine because he would totally sing that song, think that Latvia wasn't creepy and do all of his Russia-like things._

_BTW: England + Red Forman footinassjokes = Love_


	3. Chapter 3

**Bloodbath**

By the EvilMuffinToaster

**Chapter Three**

The blond superpower that was America turned to stone at the words that had left France's mouth. What was this. What the hell was _this_? He didn't even know what France was thinking. Oh god, this was like the 4-Chan Party Van scandal _all _over again.

"Surely, you _have _to be pulling my leg right? Right? I-I mean, you couldn't ave just basically told me that Russia wants in your pants cuz' of the Christmas event right?"

France stared at America with an oddly serious look and the American's heart sunk like the titanic.

"Oh shit. Well, uh, hahaha, this is awkward…!"

"Oh America…" He cooed, leaning forward slightly. "You'll be able to help me right? As your loving Big Brother France~? It'll be worth your time, mon cher. I _well _assure you."

The amazing superpower edged backwards and away from France's advancing hands and coughed. "Sorry dude. I can't."

"Why noooooot?" France whined, obviously affronted.

"I just _can't_. Cold War business and shit. At the end of the Cold War, our bosses told said that we couldn't attack each other as 'human's' and only as 'nations' as a 'declaration of war'. 'Cause really, they didn't want us to beat the absolute crap out of each other back then and definitely don't want one of us to die _or _have another Cold war start."

"So. You can't help me?"

"Nope. Sorry Francey. Though even though, I totally believe that the 'peaceful' pact between me and Russia is a total _Government Conspiracy man! _I don't want to help you because one, I'm not stupid; two, my economy couldn't handle another War, cold or hot; and three, I had to deal with Psychofucker for forty five years being all creepy commie and breathing down my neck. Deal with it France."

France nodded sadly. "I see…" He groaned and dropped his head on the table. "Non non non, if he even catches sight of me Alfred, even _Dieu _won't even know what will happen!"

The other country patted France's back sympathetically.  
"It's okay dude. Just crash with someone he'd never guess. Like, uh…fuck whatshisface, the chick who lives south..? No, that's Mexico…Oh yeah! Canada! Mattie! My northern bro!"

"Mon peitit Mattieu?" Aha! Why hadn't his genius thought of it before? Canada was _absolutely _the best place to go to hide out from an insane man for next couple of days! And besides, everyone forgot who he was so he would totally be safe from that psycho bastard! Not to mention, his former colony could actually cook real food that wouldn't cause his stomach to digest itself!

"Oh merci l'Amerique! Absolutely wonderful! Merci~!"

"Haha, you're welcome France, but uh…What did I do?"

Oh stupid, stupid and awfully handsome America. "You gave me the most wonderful idea of who I should go see next!"

"Haha!" America laughed. "It's because I'm the hero right? Right? Anyway, but good luck France."

"Au revior mon cher!" And with that, France left America's house and began on his trip to visit Canada.

* * *

The Stranger in his kitchen was peacefully sipping tea from one of his old cups left over from the old colonial days. His gaze was fixated on something on the pale coloured wall, a strange mural of sorts that he had received from the North Italian for finally finding that book on the atmosphere. America stared at the unwelcome stranger.

He grip on the wooden broom tightened slightly at the sight of the stranger. Dressed down in a white dress shirt and vest and a tie with the beige coat hung over the chair behind him; scarf wrapped tightly around his throat.

America growled. "What are _you _doing here?"

The man did not answer immediately. Only after taking a sip of the tea (probably something along the lines of Orange and Black Pekoe…) and staring into the depths of the old cup did he finally speak. "Late Eighteenth century porcelain, Little America?"

"It was made in 1804 actually." He answered evenly, staring at the intruder with a straight face. "You still didn't answer."

"This table appears quite old doesn't it?" He asked, running his gloved fingers over the smooth surface of the old table. "Quite old, just like you and I. And yes, I am here for a reason, little America. Please, have a seat." He gestured to the chairs across from him.

America scowled at the tag the stranger gave him and set the broom against the wall before going to sit down in the chair across from him.

"Nice apron."

"Hn." America answered, the face muscles twitching. "It's for cleaning. And it makes me look beast."

The other man nodded, taking another sip of his tea. "Very peculiar of you America. Really, I did not know you cleaned."

"Ohahahaha, stitch in my side man. Yeah, I clean I clean up like a boss, bitch. Even though Tony does do a fair amount of work, I help pick up after myself too after all. It's only fair."

"I guess you learn something knew everyone day, da?"

His eye twitched.

"Say, little America…Since when have you had so many kinds of tea?"

"England. Speaking of England, shouldn't you be bothering him?"

He smiled that creepy smile that had haunted his dreams for over forty years. The stranger across from him laughed and took another sip of the Black and Orange Pekoe tea.

"Nyet, friend. I am looking for another."

"France?"

He nodded, the smile turning into a grin. "Da, France. He is my new playtoy. I hope you do not feel so terrible about being replaced….But he carries much more of an interest!"

Inwardly, America was going to make sure he gave France the biggest hug _ever _later one because he had officially been stripped of his status as "Russia's Playtoy" for now. _Yes! _But there was always that one little problem though…

"He's human, Russia."

The arctic nation nodded happily. "That's what makes it all better, comrade. If you remember correctly, you too are a nation. A particularly stupid nation, but a nation nonetheless."

A hand placed itself on his knee and Russia's face showed no sign of chance and was still smiling the same creepy grin as always. Dammit. Man was probably Pedobear in disguise. That, or Pedobear's birth parent. He scowled and flicked the hand away, waving a hand at Russia like a knowitall teenager

"Seriously dude. I'm not pickin' up what you're putting down."

Russia scowled for a _second _(yeah, cause he _totally saw the angry angry scowl_) before the smile regained its place upon his creepy face.  
"Excuse me?" The Artic nation asked sweetly.

"Let's keep this on the downlow, ruski. You need to spill the tails or I'm not puttin' out. You hear what I'm saying?"

"No America. I do not hear what you're saying. Particularly, I assume the jumble of broken English coming out of your mouth is so you can hear yourself talk."

"…Never mind Russia. Never mind. I'll use English this time around."

"Hold that thought, I just remembered something…."

"Yeah?"

Violet eyes pierced through the safety of Texas. "Why did you lie?"

"Pardon?"

"Why did you lie?"

"…About what?"

He leaned forward, those violet eyes piercing. "Why did you lie to Francis about the real end?

"…How did you know?"

"I've been here the entire time, but unfortunately, your little alien friend, Tony pulled me away before I could listen to who France went to next."

"…Seriously?"

"Seriously."

America leaned away from Russia. He was damn sure he had locked all the windows and all the doors the night prior! "How the _hell _did you get into my house?"

"Ahah," Russia tittered. "You're avoiding the question." Hypocrite. He was too.

His face twitched. "Go suck a dick, Russia. I lied because I could."

"Mmm. It's more like you're afraid of me." He teased, ignoring the little comment. "Isn't that right _little _Amerika?"

"_Dude_. I am _so _not afraid of you, you commie bastard! …And for the last damn time, I am not _small!_"

"The national scale says that you're smaller than Japan. Twelve poooooooooooint…nine? Cm was it?

"And you're smaller than Latvia, Estonia, Poland, Lithuania, and Prussia. Making up for lost size?"

"Tiny, tiny." Russia mused, squeezing his forefinger and thumb. "Do you still have those condoms I gave to you for your last birthday?"

"Melted them down and made them into silly bands" [Fact – Silly bands are actually made from rejected condoms.]

"But still oh so small little Amerika….Five inches correct?"

America snorted. "I don't think with my dick unlike you man. So whatevs." He crossed his arms and looked out of the corner of his eye. "Beside don't be flaunting it Slavie. You're smaller than _all _your bitches. Six inches asshole! You have me by point-nine centimeters! So bite me."

Russia nodded. "Still bigger. That's what counts. Anyway, Amerika. We seem to have gotten derailed from our topic to the subject of your infernal small penis. So, da, why _did _you lie?"

"France needs to fight his own battles. He ain't no pussy in my opinion." The superpower answered honestly. "I lied because I _really _don't want to get into this. Really, I just want to be that fat kid sittin' on the sidelines; chillin' like a mofo while everyone nukes it out with one another for once. Yeah, what I said was pigeon shit. I could cross this table and utterly go beast on your face and you wouldn't take it as a declaration of war. Actually, you'd probably beat my face in and feed me to Belarus. Seriously. We could go at it anytime, get a little shit from the bossman, and then it'll all blow over like a house of cards. Though, we walk a thin line of ice. Our gov's hate each other. Seriously. Cold War and evil commies claimed their stupid root in society."

The once evil bastard shook his head, agreeing placidly with America's wise (but profanity-laced) words. "You don't want to start another war lest your economy crumbles."

"Hit that nail on the head, you bastard."

"As rude as you currently may be, I respect that America. For once, you are keeping the nose out of other people's business, da?"

"Hmm. Should I be offended or feel gratified that you complimented me?" Yeah, America could use smancy-fancy words like England too. He _was _home of some of the greatest minds in the whole-wide _world._ Everyone seemed to forget that.

"Feel both if you wish so, little America, but I have to say… You've been particularly pleasant this time around. Why so?"

"I got shit to do and deal with Russia. I can't be telling you of how I'm the Hero and you're an ebil rapist bastard and bastard father of Pedobear and designated driver of the 4-chan Party Van."

"4-Chan?"

"Meme shit on the interwebs. Can't really 'splain it since it's the internet and what not. Attracts mostly pedobears and creepers such as yourself though. A few basement dwellers inhabit its grounds too."

"Question Amerika. Do you hear yourself talk?"

"Nope, but I already know my voice is sexy. I don't derp much, but when I herp – I herpderp."

"I am going to assume that that is actually wonderful."

He nodded (like a boss). "And yeah, even though I hate whoring people out and whatnot, but I want you the hell out of my house so I'm gonna tell you that he went to go visit my brother. Yeah. Canada. The guy with beastly Hockey skills." He gave Russia a two finger salute. "I salute you, you Russian bastard and wish you good luck!"

Russia stood up from his chair. "Mmm, спасибо, little Amerika. I wish you an abuse-free day and the hope that you do not die of a painful death involving those hamburgers of yours."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Get out of my house, asshat."

"See you at the meeting. I look forward to putting tacks on the edge of your chair again."

"That was you!"

America raised his middle finger and lazily shoed the Russian out of his home.

"Yeah whatev's ya damn cunt nugget!"

"До свидния and good luck not picking up anything from the slag that you'll obviously spending your evening with."

"Yeah, yeah. S'long as I know that I'm getting more action than you in bed is enough knowledge for me."

And with that, the American pushed the Russian out the door and walked back into the kitchen, feeling more of a man than ever before.

Tony walked into the kitchen not long after, picked up the forgotten teacup and saucer and placed it in the sink.

"Hey Tony. Do you think it was dick of me to tell Russia where France was hiding out?"

Tony did not say anything, but Alfred seemed to have heard something and answered easily. "Okay, yeah. I agree. France needs to fight his own battles. He may be French and can't fight his way out of a paper bag…"

"_Least it isn't that fucking Limey!"_

"You mean igglekins? Well yeah, he'd just about die if Russia suddenly expressed interest in him and set his creepy sighs on him. That, or curse the snowman inta total fucking oblivion! So good thing it's France right?"

Tony nodded.

"_Yeaaaaaah, _France is a slut. But it is about time that he finally got what was coming to him after all this time."

Alfred suddenly laughed at something unspoken.  
"How very nice of you Tony! But I think he'd be able to walk afterward. You really hang out with Kiku too much in my opinion."

Silence.

"Hey! I don't care if France has all the obvious signs of a powerful uke when to comes to Russia. SMD."

"…_You don't have one."

* * *

_

Canada liked guests.  
He liked people who did not mistake him for America.  
He liked guests.

Except of course, when they attempt to get into his pants during their visit. And he hated them even more when they were his former father figure and his very, very…interesting (stupid) friends.

Yep, yep, then he absolutely hated them.

"Oh come on mon petit! Give your sweet Papa France a kiss~!"

"No! Get off you pervert!" It totally sucked royal eggs that when he yelled, his voice was still so quiet.

"Kesesesese, come little birdie – just a little show~?"

"Keep it in your p-pants! The both of you!"

Shitshitshitshit – _Shit. _The former nation's hands were wandering lower and lower and France's face was pressing closer and closer to own and _hell why was his dad such a pervert _and why in hell was France his 'papa' in the first damn place?

Out in the kitchen (where he had been kidnapped from and dragged to the couch…), the other obnoxious friend of France's, Spain, laughed quite stupidly. "What are Gil and France doing~? Oh that's easy _mi romanito_! They're taking that guy's virginity on the couch! Fusoso– No, wait don't hang up! _Loooooovi!_"

"Oh come on mon petit Mathieu! Even Spain agrees with me!"

Canada had to bit his lip as France began to unbutton his shirt and kiss down his collarbone.

"Get…off..!"

"You want this as much as me~"

"Yeah, _no_."

"Come on little birdie~" Gilbert sniggered, fingering the waist band of his sweatpants. "We'll give ya a show you'll never forget!"

"I said no!"

"Your mouth says 'non', but your body says 'oui'." Francis pouted out.

"That doesn't count!"

"Your mother doesn't count."

"Shut-up, Gil."

This was all France's fault anyway! And he knew it too! The damn thing is a nerve and he _is _a guy.  
Canada's breath hitched painfully as France pulled at his curl and nipped at the end.

"_Casse-toi!_" Canada growled, trying to slap away Gilbert's hands and get France the hell off of him, which was failing either way because the grown man would _not _move. "Casse-toi, papa!"

"Non, my little Matthew. Can you say 'Je veux vous dedans moi'~? Honhonhon~"

Meanwhile, Gilbert's hands had pulled down the waist band of his sweat pants, revealing appropriately placed red maple boxers. "Kesesesese," the former nation hissed out. "Calm down little bird!"

"_Go home!_" Was this situation similar to what Russia had to deal with when he sister wanted to 'become one with him' by getting 'marriedmarriedmarried'? Or was this what Alfred had to deal with when Mexico would suddenly decide to show up at America's house and literally stalk him?

France sighed. "But ma cherí, if I go back to my extravagant home, I will be found by that large Russian brute and be forcibly beaten to death! Do you want that to happen to your lovable _papa_?"

(Though, at this moment, yes, yes he did want Francis to be beaten to death with that metal pipe of Russia's.)

Canada bit back a small moan as Gilbert palmed him slightly through his boxers. Okay, damn, sure this was indeed border-line rape of the second degree for his person here, but whatever. At this point, he just wanted France to _go awaaaaaay _and Gilbert to finish up quickly so he could catch the new Hockey game.

His phone went off in his pocket and he shifted, trying to take it out of the pocket of his jeans (which were on the floor, _oh how did they get there?_) but he was beaten to it by France. The country of Love picked it up and flipped it open and opened the text.

_Heysexy  
_**ImafirnmehLAZR**

_L'Amerique~  
_**IMCANADA**

_Ohi Francy dnt scare my brthr alr8?  
_**ImafirnmehLAZR**

_Hmm….No scarring here…Just lovemaking, oui?  
_**IMCANADA**

_Alr8  
Btw, Russia knows.  
_**ImafirnmehLAZR**

…_Quoi!  
_**IMCANADA**

_Yeh. Larda$$ nos wer u r  
_**ImafirnmehLAZR**

_Did you tell him._  
**IMCANADA**

_No  
_**ImafirnmehLAZR**

_Lies  
_**IMCANADA**

_Sorr.  
Dun lie btch.  
_**ImafirnmehLAZER**

_Your President has nothing to do with this.  
_**IMCANADA**

_Don't bring Abe into this.  
_**ImafirnmehLAZR**

_Why the hell did you tell him?  
_**IMCANADA**

_Cuz im awsum  
_**ImafirnmehLAZER**

_Gilbert's line.  
_**IMCANADA**

_Bite me.  
_**ImafirnmehLAZR**

_Don't know where you've been~  
_**IMCANADA**

After sending the last text, he sighed. Canada's signature was so silly. It was time to change it.

_Nvr stoped u b4  
_**ImafirnmehLAZR**

_Still.  
Is Le Russe coming?  
_**Frenchwhore**

_FFFFFFFFFFFFF-  
Uhuhuhuhuhuhuh.  
Cunt nugget just left  
_**ImafirnmehLAZR**

_Merci  
…Cunt nugget?  
_**Frenchwhore**

_Yeh. He's a cunt nugget.  
Btch plz. I dun lie.  
_**gOiNg MaD**

_Very well  
Au revior my dear~!  
_**Frenchwhore**

_Kthxbai  
_**gOiNg MaD**

France sighed.  
"It seems like I will have to leave…mon petit Mathieu much more earlier than planned…"

"Somethin' bad happen?" Gilbert asked, coming up from in-between Canada's legs.

"Ah, oui. Russia's coming."

Canada squeaked, Prussia froze and Spain (who seemed to have been there the whole time) dropped the phone in the kitchen.

"Aw shit_!_" The former nation swore. "That damn cockblock's coming here!"

"Oui."

"How the hell did he find out!"

"L'Amerique."

"Lard ass? – Sorry birdie – Why the hell did he sell you out to the dogs?"

"Maybe he found out you're fucking his brother into the couch you fucking bastards!" Lovino shouted from the phone and then proceeded to yell at Spain for having such stupid friends in the first place.

"Hey, hey, hey! Back the buttfuck butthurt train up here Lovino, it is _consensual. _You're just jealous that you aren't getting some from your lover!" There was angry screaming from the other side of the food and Gilbert laughed. "By the way, Spain likes to scream in Spanish when you slap his ass!" Spain let out a large wail as a prompt _click! _was heard and immediately tried to call him back.

"Well, good luck friend." Gilbert laughed. "I'm going back to doin' what I was before."

France made a face. "You're going to leave me to get eaten by…by that _brute?_"

"He isn't a cannibal." Canada mumbled.

"Yeah, Birdie's right." Gilbert answered. "He's hard as hell to live with though, seeing as I got stuck with his sorry ass for forty something years because of your stupidity. But like a motherfuckin' _baws_ – I lived through it." The former nation looked at Canada before looking back to France. "Just run now and go hide out at Bell's."

"Do…Do you believe he will find me…?"

"'Less Bell spills and she definitely won't. I definitely won't either. Because really, since the end of the Cold War, Russia stays out of European business and politics to a degree."

"Alright then, le Prusse~ I'll take your advice~" The nation stood up proudly and smiled. "Au revior ma cherí and mon ami~!"

"Later France!"

"Hahaha, hasta mañana– _No wait, Lovi don't hang up. Looooooooooovi!"

* * *

_

HEY ALL. WRAP YOUR MINDS AROUND THIS LITTLE IDEA: If Finland is Sweden's wife and Sweden is Russia's father and Russia raped Finland, does this mean Russia is his own mother?

Btw, I is tired and there are probably soooooo many mistakes.


	4. Discontinuation

Hey guys. This story originally was a oneshot actually, but I never ever had planned to go anywhere with it all. I guess that's changed now huh? Well yeah, I'm sorry for stringing who might have enjoyed this along but this story is being discontinued.

It's terrible anyway. France should at least 'like' Russia to some point right? Gosh, its like all that French bullshit that started happening in Russia after the Mongols never happened. How odd. I started writing this story when I had no clue about real history. Shamefully, I thought I was cool and _sugoiiiii _(not really) for writing this.

Well, it's a bunch of bullshit. Sorry guys. Sorry if I'm brushing this all quickly off too. It's just I'm trying to get out my Discontinuation notes out before the 30th is over.

It's just I'm giving up TheEvilMuffinToaster account after two years of use because of many, many, many reasons and I feel terrible that I'm just brushing it all off like this _but it has to be done_.

Thanks for reading it anyway. If anyone wants it they can have it I guess?

It's been a good run guys. Another one of my stories that I did wish kinda went a little farther and didn't sound so terrible.

_TEMT reporting out!_


End file.
